


Pretense Mechanism

by AlexKingOfTheDamned, swimsalot



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy for Heavy to fall in love hard and fast with the Medic. So when Medic abandoned him at the end of the war, he wasn't prepared for the heartbreak. </p><p>He agreed to fight in the robot war to give him some distraction from the pain.<br/>He didn't expect to meet a new friend along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is to thank/pay Mr.Maverick for translating all of the shoddy google-translate German in Of Sound Mind for me~
> 
> ALSO It's worth noting that this story has absolutely no relation to Of Sound Mind. None whatsoever. Medic's name is just the same.

It'd been easy for Misha to fall in love with the team’s medic. He spent so much time with Erik, it was inevitable. How could he not fall in love with the handsome surgeon who relied on him for protection and who healed his wounds and made him more powerful than he'd ever been before? How could he not fall in love with the only man on the team who never made fun of his size or his accent and who would happily spend time talking to him about all his brilliant medical ideas instead of talking down to him like he was a child?

 

And for a while he thought Erik felt the same. The first time the other man kissed him had been a dream come true. After that everything sort of fell into place. They made love most nights and shared a bed. Erik wasn't the cuddliest man but he'd let Misha hold him until he got up to go do more work or wanted to roll over and fall asleep and that was enough for Misha. Some people need space while they sleep, that's okay.

 

They were nearly inseparable and Misha thought they’d always be like that. That after the war they'd leave together and maybe go back to Russia or Germany and spend their lives together. Because that's what people in love do. He had plans for a cabin and animals and anything else they could want.

 

It was the happiest he'd ever been. Until the war ended. Or, more accurately, until he'd gone to the medical bay and found Erik packing his things to go home to his wife. Erik had told him in no uncertain terms that what they'd had had been great but it wasn't love. Just loneliness and a closeness created by the danger they were in. He'd never meant to stay with Misha.

 

He didn't even apologize for breaking Misha's heart when he left.

 

This left Misha with a strange hole. A gap in his chest that he didn’t trust anyone to fill. He doubted everyone then, including his own family, and almost didn’t go home. He was afraid, illogically he knew, that his mother would reject him suddenly. It had been so sudden that the doctor turned him away, who knew if his family could be next.

 

Getting on the boat frightened him. But he knew as soon as he was on, there was no turning back. He trudged the eight miles to his family’s cabin in the wilderness and when his mother opened the door and smiled, he cried.

 

He told her everything, all in a rush. She didn’t seem to bat an eye when he confessed he’d fallen in love with a man, but she had more than a few things to say about the man who would take her boy’s heart and trample it. She fed him and boiled water for a hot bath and he had dinner with his sisters, and he felt home.

 

Over the weeks, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Erik. He tried not to, he knew it would only cause him more grief and pain. But he’d been so in love, to have it end so abruptly filled him with so many questions.

 

Had Erik _ever_ loved him?

Was he just returning home to his wife as a formality?

Did he even have a wife, or was he lying about that?

Did he not actually think Misha was intelligent?

Why had he not fallen in love with Misha?

Was he not good enough to fall in love with?

What about him had been unappealing?

Was Erik even capable of feeling love?

 

He lay away for hours at night pondering questions he’d never get an answer to. They plagued him during the day, any moment he wasn’t spending with his family he was left with his thoughts. His sisters always tried to boost his mood, but they didn’t know why he was so glum. Only his mother understood why a dark cloud followed him everywhere.

 

He thought he was doomed to brood for the rest of his life. But then, after only a few months of being with his family, the head RED Scout and a Soldier Misha didn’t recognize, but who wore a RED uniform, came to fetch him on Miss Pauling’s orders.

 

They’re putting the old team back together to fight a new enemy. Robots were foreign to Misha, but he had so much pent up sadness and aggression that he’d punch anything put in front of him.

 

After a pep talk from his family he'd agreed to go with them. He'd packed the few things he had and with a kiss from his mother and Zhanna in tow he left with his old teammates. He didn't tell any of them that part of what was spurring him on _and_ what was holding him back was the thought of seeing Erik again.

 

The team needed a medic after all. They would never survive without a medic. And if they came to find him and they already had the soldier and scout, surely they would be going after Erik too.

 

Maybe he could finally get some answers then. Maybe this was his chance to get some real closure and set his mind at ease. Assuming seeing Erik again didn't just rip the old wound wide open as the doctor was so fond of doing.

 

They didn’t return to New Mexico, but instead took a slight detour to the state’s neighbor, Colorado. The desert scene is replaced by dense forests, mountains and lakes. Misha couldn’t have welcomed the change in scenery more.

 

When he got to the small base, he realized why he hadn’t recognized the Soldier. He was a BLU originally. It appears Miss Pauling is pulling mercs from wherever she can get them. Both the RED and BLU Spies are on the base, as well as the BLU Demoman and Pyro, and the RED Sniper and Engie. The majority of both team heads have been called in, it seems, and they’re all being outfitted with RED uniforms, just for uniformities’ sake.

 

There was a brief argument about whether they should represent RED or BLU, and some even suggested that they all just wear purple, but they settled on the fact that what they wear is a lot less important than actually fighting the robots.

 

Miss Pauling warns them that the robots have been fashioned to look like them, talk like them, act like them. She tells them they’re just rudimentary bots, they have no rationality or reasoning. Their single goal is to transfer a bomb from their tank to the base, and blow it up.

 

Misha doesn’t really listen to her lecture. He wants to get to the med bay as quickly as he can. The instant she dismisses them he nearly bowls people over making his way to the medical ward. He almost trips over his own feet in his rush to get inside, and when he pushes the doors open, a Medic turns around.

 

Clad in a BLU uniform from head to toe, looking very pressed, clean and neat, stands a young blond man that Misha has never seen before.

 

"You are not doktor," Misha says glumly. His shoulders sag and he sighs. Not Erik. Maybe Erik refused. Or maybe he just isn't here yet. There's no way of knowing but this man in front of him definitely is not the doctor he wanted.

 

The man looks startled by the sudden presence of a very large man in his new med bay. “I am,” he says, recognizing the man has an accent so he’s foreign and might be misunderstanding something somehow. “I went to school and got a degree and everything.”

 

Misha shakes his large head. This is the blue medic. A good doctor from what Erik used to tell him. Talented, enthusiastic, terrifying out on the battle field. He's everything this new team could want. But he isn't Erik.

 

"You are doktor," Misha clarifies. "You are not my doktor. Was hoping Erik would be team medic. No offense intended."

 

The man’s expression instantly softens from cautious offense to polite friendliness. “I was hoping to work alongside him as well. From what I heard, the offer was extended to him, but he’s back in Germany working on a large project of some kind, and didn’t want to give it up to come back here. I’ll be your new doctor.”

 

"He is not coming." Misha says. He almost feels like laughing. Of course Erik wouldn't come. Of course he won't leave his home and his wife and everything he has a second time. He won't come back for Misha.

 

He manages to hold back his laughter and his tears and instead ask as calmly as he can. "Do you know way to get in touch with him? Have questions never got to ask before end of war."

 

“Yes, I know his home address. He and I have been writing letters back and forth,” the man says. “By the way, I’m Dr. Roger Clifford. I think you’re the only one I haven’t met so far, actually.”

 

He jots down Erik’s home address on a piece of paper and hands it to Misha, unaware of how much this new bit of news has crippled him. Erik is writing to a man who should have been his enemy, and hasn’t sent a single word to Misha.

 

Misha shoves the tiny piece of paper into his pocket before clenching his fists to hide how his hands are shaking. He can't even fool himself into thinking Erik might not have had his address. He knows he gave it to him. He definitely told the doctor where to find him. But still he never wrote.

 

He takes a deep breath before addressing the new doctor. "Name is Misha. Am heavy weapons guy. Can just call me Heavy. Most others do."

 

They shake hands, but Misha is glad the man doesn’t want him to stay and chat. He would have, out of politeness, but he really just wants to be alone.

 

He’s filled with grief and anger and sorrow. He tries to make it mostly anger. He tries to be furious with Erik so he can get over him. But mostly, he just misses him, and wrongly blames himself for their failure. He’s sure if he’d just done the right things, it wouldn’t have gone so poorly. If only he could have convinced Erik to leave his wife…

 

The only thing that gives him peace, ironically, is the battlefield. Spraying robots with bullets is very therapeutic. Especially since the Medicbots are fashioned to look just like him. Armed with his medigun technology, clad in a robotic version of the uniform, they even wear a pair of spectacles and have unnecessary “hair” cut just so in the way his was, with the signature curl in place in the center of their foreheads.

 

It’s very satisfying to destroy them with his bullets. He’d like to think that if Erik returned suddenly he would have the courage to kill him. But he knows he wouldn’t.

 

He fights harder than he ever fought before. He mows through robots like they're nothing, bullets tearing through them like tissue paper. He runs faster than before, aims better, laughs louder. He ignores Dr. Clifford when he's on the field rather than protecting him like he knows it's his job to. This is war after all, they all came here knowing they could die.

 

He works hard to exhaust himself every day so when he goes to bed at night he doesn't lie awake wondering if it'd be better with Erik here. If he could do the right things this time and make him stay. He blocks out the thoughts and goes to sleep and dreams of battles filled with robots wearing his beloved's face.

 

Every day is new and interesting. He faces a new tactic every day, the robots seem to be learning – realistically he knows that whoever is _programming_ the robots is the one doing the learning – but nevertheless they have to work smarter every single day.

 

He avoids getting close to anyone on the field. He dreads to think what would happen if he fell for someone else. He’d never been in love before Erik and he’s sure he couldn’t handle being in love again with the wrong sort of person.

 

Which has him alone on the battlefield a lot. He doesn’t mind, he was always a solitary sort of creature anyway. It gives him time to appreciate the views, the forests and streams and lakes that line the countryside. He picks off the Scoutbots who try to find alternate routes through, and enjoys the sunshine and cool air.

 

He smiles as the soldier runs whooping past him, shouting “Grand Old Flag” at the top of his lungs as he rocket-jumps back into the fray. He wishes he had that kind of joy in him. In the distance, he hears a feeble whirring, and heads in that direction, expecting to have a new bot to destroy.

 

What he finds is a Medicbot, in quite a state. One of its arms is dangling at an odd angle, it has scorch marks all over its chest and face, and there are sparks shooting out of its neck. The shaft leading to its single, popped tire is bent, but it continues to slowly, feebly turn its wheel. It slowly raises its head to look at the approaching Heavy, but makes no move towards him, and Misha realizes its unarmed. It’s just staring at him.

 

He should destroy it. He raises his gun and aims at the machine's face, the face molded to look like his Erik. It’s looking at him, staring up at him with it's blank and soulless mechanical eyes. Somehow he gets the sense that it knows what's about to happen. But that's impossible.

 

His hand itches on the gun's handle. He should let loose a barrage of bullets. He should turn this tin monstrosity into scrap metal. But it's looking up at him through Erik's glasses, with Erik's hair, and he's never looked at one this closely before.

 

He sighs and lowers his gun. He can't do it. It's just a robot modeled to look like his doctor but still, when they're face to face like this, he can't do it.

 

The other Medicbots have spoken in tinny German accents, shouting phrases Erik used to spout often. But this one doesn’t speak. Misha supposes the sparks coming from it neck has something to do with that. It’s trembling slightly, the motor that keep it running has the metal parts of its body jostling.

 

Misha squats down to get a better look at it. It’s not very well put together or painted, for that matter. No effort or attention went into this bot in particular. It has a very manufactured look. He tilts his head to try and look at the location of the sparks. To his shock, the bot tilts its head in the same direction.

 

"Stop it," Misha says, like he's scolding a child. He sets down his gun and pushes the bot's head back the other way so he can get a better look at the problem in its neck.

 

The bot definitely has some damage to its throat. Its head is barely holding on at all, and there is a hole blown through where its collarbone would be. Whatever recorded voice it had is gone now.

 

It stares at him intently. The light in its eyes flashes occasionally, and after a while Misha realizes that it’s not the bot’s circuits on the fritz, but in fact a mechanism meant to mimic blinking. Which is odd, considering he hasn’t seen that in the eyes of any of the other bots.

 

The bot’s good arm lifts slowly and touches his head where Misha's hand had been, and then looks at its hand, as if it expected something to come off in his palm from where Misha touched him. It occurs to the Heavy that this robot has probably never been touched in its life.

 

Life. That’s a poor choice of words. It’s not alive. If Misha starts thinking like that, he’ll be in big trouble.

 

There isn't much he can do for the robot. He isn't a mechanic and even if he was he can't drag one of their enemy bots to the base to fix it up. It's supposed to be killing them after all.

 

But somehow the thought of killing it is unimaginable. And just as appalling is the prospect of leaving it alone out here, completely helpless. It's ridiculous because it isn't as if it's alive or even aware that it's been damaged. It's a machine, like his gun. Nothing more. But he can't leave it here. It's unfair.

 

When he picks the bot up in his arms, it’s lighter than he expected. Lighter even than Sascha. But what really surprises him is the way the bot grabs onto him with its one good arm. For a split second he thinks he’s under attack. But then he realizes it’s just holding on. Such a simple reaction, but so strange for a robot.

 

He carries the bot back to the base the longest route he can take to ensure he doesn’t run into any of his team. He sneaks the bot into one of the abandoned laboratories. He’s had a little bit of experience engineering, but this is a whole new level of application.

 

Hours pass, he’s up through the night. He straightens the Medicbot’s wheel shaft with good old-fashioned heat, spit and elbow grease. Finding him a new tire isn’t going to be easy, he realizes. He’s going to need to get one from another Medicbot. It’s probably going to take several days to fix up this little guy and then… and then, he’s not sure.

 

The bot seems… curious, almost. It watches him fix its wheel shaft with interest. Its eyes keep whirring in and out of focus as it zooms its sight in and out, taking in everything Misha is doing. His gaze seems much too intentional for it not to be storing information and rationalizing.

 

Misha realizes that within the span of a few hours, the bot has turned from an ‘it’ to a ‘him’ in his mind. He has a quality of humanity to him that Misha didn’t expect. He grabs at things with his good arm, absolutely anything within reach. Misha has to clear the space around him like a child, or anything that he can bend over and grab he’ll have his hands on. Wrenches, pencils, scraps of paper, stray bullets, anything that will fit in his hand he picks up. Misha would call him curious, if he wasn’t certain he was logging his surroundings.

 

Finally the wheel shaft is straightened and Misha has made some headway on the bot's other arm. But by then it's well into the early morning and his vision has started to blur. He doesn't want to leave him alone but he can't stay with the bot all night and fight tomorrow.

 

He finally sits back and sighs. The rest will have to wait another day or two. Maybe tomorrow he can find a new wheel or even salvage a voice box for his new little friend.

 

"Consider self lucky. Have done good work tonight. In few days will be good as new." Misha says as he stands up. "Then maybe I will kill you. We will see. Good night robot."

 

He starts to walk out of the lab. After a few seconds he hears a strange whirring flapping noise, and he turns to see the robot struggling to follow him on a flat tire.

 

"No," Misha says. He picks up the bot and carries him back to the lab table. "You can not come. Must stay here now."

 

The bot watches him go as Misha walks several paces backwards. He makes it ten steps and the robot is still sitting, watching him from the table. He considers that a victory and turns to walk out the door, but again he hears the soft flapping sounds. Quieter this time, like the bot is trying to sneak.

 

He turns, and the bot freezes. Misha regards him curiously. Clearly, the robot is learning. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have stopped moving when Misha saw him. He knows he’s been caught, and associates that with being picked up and put back on the table. The implications of this action are mind-boggling.

 

Again he picks the bot up and sets him on the table. If the bot can learn behavior, maybe it understands some language too. If so it could mean an all new game out on the field.

 

"You. Must. Stay." Misha says slowly, speaking to the robot like some of his teammates speak to him. "If. You. Go. Will. Get. Shot."

 

The robot just stares at him.

 

“Shot. Shot?” Misha makes the universal hand gesture for gun, sticking out his forefinger and middle finger and pointing his thumb up. He makes a few muted gunshot noises and mimics shooting the robot. “Shot. With gun.”

 

The robot mimics his hand gesture but otherwise shows no sign of understanding.

 

"Broken. Will be more broken." Misha tries again. Maybe the robot just doesn't understand what shot means. Maybe it will understand in robot terms. "Will be broken. Beyond repair."

 

The bot drops his hand back into his lap. He makes no other moves, just continues to hum and rumble and stare. Misha sighs and decides one more time to try leaving. This time, the bot stays behind in the lab, and he’ able to finally get to his room and sleep for a few hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Misha doesn’t have time to visit the bot the next morning. Or rather, later that same morning. He only gets to sleep for a handful of hours, and he’s more than exhausted on the battlefield, but he keeps on the lookout for a Medicbot he can salvage parts from.

 

Most of the bots are either destroyed early on and completely obliterated – understandable, given that they repair the other robots – or they’re left mostly in one piece, but too close to the others for him to reasonably take parts. It would be too suspicious if he just started stripping parts from a robot in front of everyone else.

 

It takes hours and hours, most of the day, to finally lure a single Medicbot away. This one, he notices, is not blinking. It wields its weapon single-mindedly and even though it’s identical to the one back in the shop, it looks so different.

 

Luckily, the Medicbots are not well-equipped for fighting. Misha is easily able to strip its meager weapon off of it, and rips its head off to stop its moving. He realizes too late that he accidentally destroyed the voice box this way, but then decides he’d rather the bot not sound like Erik, anyway. He spends the last couple hours of combat carefully removing the bot’s arm to replace the one back in the shop, as well as its tire, and a few other parts that look in better condition than the other one.

 

Carrying everything is a hassle, but he finally manages to dump everything in the shop. Panic grips him when the bot is nowhere in sight.

 

“Robot!” he shouts.                          

 

He hears the echoey, awkward flapping noise, and the bot trundles unsteadily around a corner. He has a bucket on top of his head, with a winter coat draped over it by the hood to create a cape. He has to push the rim of the bucket up with his hands every few seconds to see.

 

He can’t move very quickly or evenly on his flat tire, but he makes his way back to the table Misha originally put him on, dumping the objects off his head and dragging his body up to sit down where Misha left him.

 

Misha comes over to the table with the parts he manages to salvage and drops them next to the bot before taking his seat beside the table.

 

"Should not be fixing you," he scolds, opening his tool box to get to work. "If they knew I was fixing enemy bot, would send me home to Russia. Or kill me on spot as traitor. You are lucky Misha is big softie and could not leave stupid little bot alone. And how do you repay Misha? By playing games and giving him giant heart attack. You are naughty bot."

 

Trying to get the new arm attached is almost impossible. The bot is so eager to test out his new limb that he keeps trying to move it before Misha can get all the pieces together. He has to concentrate very hard to figure out how to connect the parts, given that his background has to do with weapons and not general mechanics, and the robot’s constant anxious fiddling is making his job very difficult.

 

“I will turn you off!” he threatens when the bot tries to tug his arm away for the hundredth time. This seems to humble the bot and he sits still while Misha finishes his work.

 

The wheel is much easier to replace, and the instant the tire is in place, he spins it at speeds that look downright dangerous. He leaps off the table and takes off at a full gallop, zipping all through the workshop. Misha has to jump out of the way to avoid being bowled over while the Medicbot takes sharp turns and jumps over fallen objects. If Misha didn’t know any better – and he’s beginning to think he doesn’t – the bot seems _happy_ to be in one piece.

 

He tumbles suddenly over a fallen broom handle and crashes loudly into a precariously set up tool shelf, taking the whole thing down with him. Misha rushes over to find him sitting inside an overturned tool box, his wheel stuck in a bucket, showered with various tools, but otherwise unharmed.

 

Misha can't help laughing. It's the first truly joyful laugh he's enjoyed since the end of the first war. He laughs as he helps the bot out of its bucket and pulls him up onto his wheel again. He holds him steady while he looks him over for damage and while there are a few small dents there doesn't appear to be anything worth worrying over.

 

"Maybe I should take wheel off. Might be safer for you, da?" Misha teases before realizing that joking with a robot is pointless. It won't understand humor.

 

Unless it does. He's seemed so advanced so far. Maybe he does have a sense of humor somewhere in there. Misha flinches when the bot reaches for him. He’s been fighting them for long enough that any of them getting in his personal space makes him wary at first. But the bot just rests his hand on the side of Misha’ head, and he realizes he’s mimicking the way Misha first touched him.

 

He has a memory, at least. He has thought. He can make connections between information. Misha wonders if all of the robots are this intelligent, or if he just found a lucky one.

 

He lets the bot touch him for a while, interested to see what it will do. But it doesn't do anything. It just holds him and seems almost confused. Like it isn't sure what it's supposed to do next.

 

Misha finally pulls himself free and pushes the robot's hands away so he can get a look at his neck. The sparking has stopped which is good but there's still a lot of damage there. Installing a new voice box is the best way to go but getting one intact is going to be quite an undertaking.

 

During the days, he spends his time watching the Medicbots. He learns that they don’t really speak, they just have a few stored phrases that they spit out every few seconds without intention or inflection. And he certainly doesn’t want that kind of voice for his new friend.

 

At night, he disappears into the shop to spend time with his bot. He knows he’ll have to name him eventually if he wants to keep him around. He can’t keep calling him robot. But he doesn’t know if he should name him after the man he’s fashioned after or not.

 

His life has been totally taken over by the robot. When he’s awake he’s either spending time with him, or worrying about him when he’s not. When he’s asleep, he’s plagued with nightmares about his team finding the friendly, intelligent bot and destroying it. Or, sometimes, he has dreams that the bot turns on him and kills him.

 

He’s trying to test the bot’s intelligence as much as he can. It’s pointless to try and get him to speak, but he does other things. He finds out, for instance, that he’s a very fast learner when it comes to reading and mathematics. He dumps Erik’s old blueprints in the shop and the next time he comes back, the bot was trying to build a medigun out of scrap metal and duct tape. He also seems to enjoy music, and always hovers over Misha when he brings a new record for him.

 

As days turn into weeks, he finds a definite affection for the bot. He’s at once a child and an adult, brilliant and naïve, curious and intuitive. Misha just wishes he could talk back. It’s very lonely, having company that he can’t hold a conversation with.

 

The bot seems lonely too. Not while Misha is there. When Misha is there he's excited and energetic and almost lively. But when he leaves Robot seems sad. He still follows Misha to the door sometimes and once even grabbed Misha's shirt to try to keep him from leaving. And when he comes back he's almost giddy, gliding around in circles before stopping in front of Misha and keeping on his heels most of the evening.

 

So Misha decides to bring him some company. Nothing special, just a small transistor radio that will pick up local stations. At least he'll have some voices and news while Misha is away to keep him company.

 

That seems to occupy him for a few days, but his mood seems to be in decline. He inspects Misha's throat when he talks, touching his neck curiously. Misha stopped flinching a long time ago when the bot entered his personal space. He finds him a few hours later staring at his own neck in a mirror. He’s not capable of any expression on his face, and yet Misha has been able to tell when he’s feeling when he looks at him.

 

If he’s honestly feeling anything at all. It’s strange for Misha to think about a robot feeling, but he’s clearly intelligent enough to have a grasp on emotions.

 

“You do not need to talk,” Misha tells him, hands on his shoulders as they make eye contact through the mirror. “You are good just the way you are.”

 

The next day, he walks into a horror scene. The radio has been torn apart, and the bot is tearing at his own throat, pulling at wires and trying to cram a speaker into his neck.

 

"Stop!" Misha says, rushing into the room. He tries to pull the radio from Robot's hands but he refuses to let go. They struggle, but the robot is stronger. Misha gives up and lets him go. "You will only damage self more. Will make big mess." he warns while Robot continues to try to fit the speaker into himself.

 

Misha watches with a heavy heart as the speaker falls out of the newly created cavity and back into the bot’s hands. He shakes for a moment, and then hurls the speaker against the wall with all his might where it shatters into pieces. Misha looks from the broken device back to the bot, and finds him hanging his head in his hands.

 

It's such a human reaction. Want, frustration, disappointment, even sorrow. He's so human, despite everything that Misha can't help but want to comfort him. So he goes to the bot's side and clears away the radio debris to sit beside him and put an arm around his metal shoulders.

 

"Will find you new voice. I promise. Will find you new, better voice." he says, hugging the unfeeling bot.

 

He has no idea where to even start. Everything he can think of only comes with pre-recorded messages. He has no idea what kind of device would give Robot the freedom to speak with his own words. He can’t even go to the Engineer and ask him what he would do, even though he’d probably have better ideas given his experience.

 

He tries a voice box from a doll that boasts 25 phrases, but it’s just the same recycled words over and over and Robot is frustrated by it within an hour. Misha spends hours getting ahold of an actual voice box from a Medicbot, but upon hearing it, Robot is so distressed that he rips it back out of his neck.

 

Both Misha and the poor bot are at the end of their ropes by the time the week is out. He seems depressed. At this point Misha has given up trying to convince himself Robot doesn’t feel.

 

Finally he brings him another radio. A smaller one. Together they remove the speaker and the circuitry inside. It's not perfect and won't give Robot his own voice but if they do this right it might open him up to a new means of communicating until they find something that'll work perfectly to give him a way to speak as much as he clearly wants to.

 

Misha connects the wires of the speakers into the baseplate of Robot’s mainframe, and they situate the speaker in his throat. Misha covers his neck with a new, fresh sheet of metal with a hole cut out perfectly for the speaker, and steps back.

 

“How is it?” he asks tentatively.

 

The bot thinks for a while. He blinks for a few time, and then a bizarre sound emanates from his speaker that almost worries Misha for a second, until he realizes that it’s the sound of rapturous applause and cheering.

 

A man’s voice issues from the speakers, “ _And it’s a homerun!_ ”

 

Misha knows what that means. Scout says it a lot when he hits someone in the face with his baseball bat. It's a good thing. In this case a sign of joy, of Robot's pleasure.

 

It works. And Misha could cry with joy. He's sure Robot would too, if he could produce tears. Grinning from ear to ear Misha lifts the bot into his arms and hugs him as tightly as he dares. "We did it! You have voice now!"

 

A woman’s voice, laden with tears sounds from his speaker over the sound of a watery crescendo, “ _Well, gosh, does this mean we’ll live happily ever after?_ ”

 

Misha laughs and sets Robot down on his wheel again. "Da. Happily ever after. Sounds good to me."

 

Robot speaks with a man’s voice this time, speaking energetically with some kind of whimsical music behind it, “ _And what is your name, little boy?_ ”

 

And all at once Misha realizes he never introduced himself to the bot. He speaks about himself in the third person sometimes, but he’s never indicated that Misha is his name.

 

"Misha. My name is Misha." Misha answers, holding out his hand for a handshake, to make this a proper introduction. "What is your name?" Maybe with any luck Robot will find a name for himself and that will be that.

 

The bot stares at his hand for a long while. He looks up and Misha's face, and then back to his hand. The silence lingers for so long that Misha almost puts his hand back down, but then the blue painted hand of the bot reaches out and takes his.

 

Another man’s voice, softer and subdued, “ _There really isn’t anybody in history quite like Johann Sebastian Bach_.”

 

"This is name you want? Johann?" Misha ventures. Internally he's relieved. It isn't Erik. It isn't even anything like Erik. It's still German but it isn't his old lover's name so he won't have to be further reminded of his heartbreak every time he talks to his new friend.

 

Johann gives another round of applause, and Misha grins.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's porn in this chapter~

Spending time with Johann quickly becomes the highlight of Misha's day. The robot is intelligent and curious and playful and at the end of the day downright sweet. Now that he's got a voice of his own he almost never stops chattering, tuning through station after station to find the words to make up all the questions he wants to ask.

 

It's totally adorable and never fails to put a smile on Misha's face after a long day.

 

He's still as excited as ever to see Misha when he comes back and zooms around him a few times before they really settle into their conversations of the night. After the first time Misha came to the lab bleeding they've added in time for a once over and necessary doctoring to keep Johann satisfied that Misha isn't broken or leaking.

 

It feels like he really cares. Like Misha means as much to him as he's started to mean to Misha. There's a joy and want in his presence that the heavy was sure no one would feel for him again after Erik. But this little robot, who looks so much like his old lover, clearly wants him around and it warms Misha's giant heart.

 

He’s adopted a new way to let Misha know he’s happy. He flips through stations rapidly to create a staticky churring noise, unlike any noise Misha is familiar with. But he’s learned to associate it with Johann’s joy. Despite his inability to emote, he’s one of the most expressive creatures Misha has ever met.

 

The fact that Johann’s thrill over seeing Misha every day doesn’t dwindle with time is what keeps Misha going. Every day he’s just as happy as the last, and every night he’s just as sad to see him go. It occurs to Misha that the robot might not actually have object permanence, and that he might be worrying every time Misha leaves, it might be the day he doesn’t come back.

 

But still he stays obediently in the shop, never leaving or exploring outside. Misha has never known such an obvious expression of trust and respect. Erik wouldn’t even trust him with his glasses, but Johann trusts him with his life. Misha is the one who makes sure he’s running smoothly, well-oiled and up to scratch. He learned quickly that the robots aren’t very well built because they’re destroyed easily, so he’s been making a lot of adjustments.

 

He covered Johann’s engine, which stopped the shaking and humming and allowed him to run more efficiently. He swapped out his axel for one that spins so he can turn around in place rather than make awkward three-point turns. He streamlined his design, removing unnecessary decorative plating, and every day there’s a new dent or scratch to smooth out. Johann might never leave the shop, but he certainly gets into a mess of trouble anyway.

 

But fixing him up is fun. They spend the hours together, Johann playing music on his radio with Misha singing or humming along. They laugh when he messes up the words and together share their joy over his updates.

 

Misha tries to teach him to dance one day and it's more fun then he can remember having. Johann is awkward and even with his updated wheel and axel he can't get the turns just right. But it's still fun to see him try to waltz along with the music he's playing.

 

When he dances with Misha, he tries to lead, but he’s clumsy and awkward and eventually he gives the lead to Misha. Even though he’s just a robot, it feels so wonderful for Misha to hold a body against his again.

 

Fall passes into winter and the robot army seems to stall somewhat in the frigid Colorado snow. The fighting doesn’t last as long, which gives Misha even more time to spend with Johann. He brings the bot books frequently and finds him poring over them. He wasn’t sure at first if Johann could read, but it’s evident he can when his “to read” pile diminishes rapidly every day.

 

Misha doesn’t know what he’d like to read, so he just brings him everything. Car manuals, children’s stories, young adult novels about women being whisked away by tall sleek men, everything Misha can get his hands on he brings to Johann, and the bot soaks up every word.

 

Christmas comes, and Misha buy a set of paints to give Johann a new look from head to toe. He paints him festively with garlands and ornaments and frosty edges, and he lets Johann paint his face in return. It doesn’t wind up actually looking like anything, but Misha allows his face to be streaked with colors anyway because Johann’s joy is unbridled.

 

In some ways, Johann’s happiness seems realer than the humans Misha lives with. He’s genuine and unashamed, he doesn’t try to hide his happiness or pretend he’s serious. He lets his feelings show as they happen, and makes no pretenses about taking himself too seriously. He’s more fun to be around than most people Misha knows.

 

On Christmas day Misha comes to the shop to find that Johann spent all night creating a tree out of scrap metal and fashioning ornaments out of dud grenades and broken light bulbs, with a star on top made of newspaper (Misha can see an open book of origami on the table). He even threw a dirty oil cloth around the bottom as a tree skirt. The whole thing is lopsided and ugly, but it makes Misha so happy.

 

He doesn’t expect to be presented with a gift. When he opens it, he finds a heart fashioned out of what is clearly bits of Johann’s plates, painted light blue and scorch-marked. Engraved across the front are words that make Misha's head spin.

 

 _If I had a heart, I’d give it to you_.

 

The present brings tears to Misha's eyes and he sets it aside gently to pull Johann into a tight embrace. He cries into his hard metal shoulder, knowing he'll have to clean him later to make sure he doesn't start to rust.

 

It's the most touching gift anyone has ever given Misha. Johann doesn't lie, isn't capable of lying, so he knows the sentiment is entirely true. Maybe for the first time someone loves him and really means it. He doesn't know how else to show his gratitude than to just hold Johann as close as he can.

 

Johann blinks. This is new. Misha has held him before, but never like this. He offlines his eyes and pretends like he can feel it. He speculates what it might be like to feel this kind of pressure and warmth. He knows Misha must be warm, he’s seen him give off steam. He must run on a hotter form of fuel.   
  
This is affection. Johann has read all about it. He’s read epics about weepy heiresses being romanced by handsome and rugged men, and how they embrace and slot their mechanisms together. He knows the recipes for these stories and what this action indicates. So he lifts his arms around Misha and holds him in return.

 

Being held back only makes Misha cry harder. Johann can't even feel him but still he's holding him as if they were really friends. Johann loves him more purely than anyone else can, except maybe his mother and sisters.

 

"Better than most men," he says through his tears. "You are better friend than others. Am glad to have found you Johann."

 

Johann takes Misha's face in his hands and inspects him curiously. He touches the water coming from Misha's eyes and tilts his head. He’s leaking, he’s broken! He whirls away on the spot and scrambles for a cloth to plug the leak before it worsens. He shoves a dirty cloth in Misha's face, but the Heavy only laughs.

 

“Is okay,” Misha promises him, tossing the cloth aside and wiping his tears. “It means I am happy.”

 

Happy. Johann catalogues the reaction. Leaking when happy. He wonders if he does that sometimes without noticing. Well, if there’s nothing to be worried about, there’s no reason not to continue the embrace. Misha seems surprised that the robot is hugging him again, but Johann sees his arms lift back around him and knows that he’s returning the hug.

 

It’s one of the more basic gestures of human kindness and affection, but also one of the nicest. Johann pulls back to look at Misha's face again. He’s still leaking, but it’s no cause for alarm. Cautiously, he cups Misha's face in his hands. He’s read about this. About what happens next. Kisses always follow hugs. He has no mouth, but he wants to try anyway. He tilts his head and lines up the decorative mouth-slit on his faceplate with Misha's lips and connects them gently.

 

Misha stiffens in surprise. This isn't what he was expecting. Returning the hug was surprising enough but initiating a kiss is entirely different. He probably means it to be friendly but Misha feels himself blushing anyway, like a school girl who has been given a kiss by the boy they have a crush on. He presses his lips back even though Johann can't feel it before pulling away.

 

"Thank you Johann. Am sorry do not have present for you yet. Will bring you gift tomorrow."

 

The heart is hung over his bed in his room. It catches light beautifully in the morning.

 

Johann buzzes excitedly around Misha when he returns the next afternoon. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten about Misha's promise to bring him a present. Misha can only laugh as he hands a wrapped gift to the excited robot.

 

After a few minutes of Johann inspecting the brightly wrapped box joyfully, Misha realizes he has no intention to unwrap it. “Johann,” he says to get the gleeful bot’s attention. “Inside. The present is inside.”

 

He receives only a tilted head in return. Johann then carefully cuts the paper at the seams to leave it as intact as possible, and opens the box. Inside is newspaper, and Misha almost tells him that isn’t the gift either, but Johann seems to get the idea. He sifts through the paper until he pulls out a small handheld chalkboard and a box of chalks.

 

“For when you can’t find the right words,” Misha tells him. “You can always have a place to write them down.”

 

Johann stares at the gift, processing the new freedom of communication he’s just been given. He carefully opens the box and delicately slips out a single stalk of chalk, but now that he’s been given absolute autonomy with his language… all words have left him.

 

He looks up and with a woman’s voice speaks “ _Thank you, sir_.”

 

Misha grins and kisses Johann on his cold metal head. "Are welcome. Want to know what you have to say sometimes, not just what is easiest to find on radio."

 

Johann gently christens the board with his first words, careful not to break the chalk, and he flips the board around and shows them to Misha.

 

 _I could fill a book_.

 

"Now is good time to start." Misha says, laughing. He could get Johann a book. He could find him a notebook of sorts, a diary, for him to fill with whatever he wants. And maybe he will someday if this war goes on much longer.

 

Misha finds that board scribbled with thoughts often. Sometimes they’re little messages to Misha, or reminders to Johann, sometimes there’s a couple lines of music or something memorable he heard on the radio that he wanted to share with Misha. Most often there are affirmations scrawled out in Johann’s mechanical hand writing, reminding the Heavy how Johann feels.

 

_I love you._

_Thank you._

_You are important._

 

Sometimes Misha wonders if he’s really capable of feeling love. It shouldn’t be possible. He might just be spouting things he hears and reads. But when he embraces Misha, it’s clear. He doesn’t get anything out of their hugs or kisses, he can’t physically feel Misha. This means he must be getting solely emotional connections from the action, or he wouldn’t do it.

 

Every time there's a new message or he receives one of Johann's wonderfully uncomfortable hugs Misha feels warmer and happier than ever before. It carries over onto the field where he fights harder than before so he can go home to Johann sooner.

 

It's amazing how that little lab has started to feel like home. He's even considered moving his bed into the lab so he can stay with Johann all the time. But it's hard enough to leave him at the end of the night, he's sure he wouldn't be able to leave him in the morning to go off to war.

 

Winter fades into spring and brings with it an unnatural heat for that time of the year. Misha is left sweating and exhausted by the end of the fighting for the day. It doesn’t help that Mann must have used the winter to improve his designs, and now he’s started sending in bigger bots, versions twice the size of the original robots – or bigger. The last thing Misha needed in his life was a twelve-foot Erik riding in a chariot.

 

It also means that his visits with Johann have to be pushed back farther. He needs to shower before he can come see him, which takes another hour off the time they can spend together. This obviously distresses Johann, who can’t empathize with the concept of being too warm. He seems aggravated when Misha does come to him, scolding him for being late and inspecting him all over for injuries.

 

Misha tries to cut his showers as short as possible. He doesn't dry his short hair after and runs through the halls to get to the lab. Some days he considers skipping his shower all together. It's not as if Johann can smell his sweat. He might be uncomfortable but it might be worth it to keep his robot friend happy. He can shower later if he needs to.

 

He tries it one day but his shirt is tight and hot and uncomfortable. It clings to his sweat slick torso and he can't quite sit still because he knows he's soaked in sweat and filth and he considers leaving early to go to the showers.

 

But Johann is so happy that Misha is there on time that he suffers through it. After less than an hour, it becomes too much to bear, so he peels his shirt off, hoping the cool air in the lab will give him some relief.

 

Johann stares. It’s impossible, but Misha thinks for a moment that his eyes widened. Johann takes in the new information at a mile a second, calculating and re-computing. It comes off? Misha's plating comes off so easily? It’s made of such a flimsy material, it just pools on the ground. What’s the purpose?

 

He picks up the discarded shirt and stretches it curiously. He thought it was part of Misha's chassis. He drops it and turns his attention back to the Heavy, wheeling over to his side and looking him up and down.

 

“ _Great Scott!_ ” he exclaims, and touches Misha's body. His plating is soft, it gives under Johann’s fingers. He rubs at his chest and shoulders and arms, inspecting his body with wild interest. He snoops around Misha's back. What purpose do the little tendrils serve? He pulls one and Misha barks, he sounds like he’s in pain. Perhaps they’re little wires, and it hurts him to remove them.

 

Misha's face goes bright red under Johann's scrutiny. Why is the bot inspecting him so closely? Then he realizes that Johann has probably never seen a human shirtless before. He won't understand what his skin and hair are or how he can undress so easily.

 

"Red cloth is shirt." he explains, staring up at the ceiling while Johann inspects him. "Underneath is skin. Humans have skin."

 

Skin. Johann has read about skin. He’d thought the red _was_ Misha's skin. He didn’t realize human skin was so soft and flimsy. _This_ is what protected Misha every day when he went out to fight? This isn’t protection at all, this is a joke.

 

He paws at Misha’s sides and belly, testing the durability of this “skin.” It’s clearly soft, he can’t imagine how this does Misha any good. His own plating is firm and can even stop bullets at the best of times. He doubts “skin” would stop a single bullet.

 

If the red comes off, does that mean the black does too? Johann slips a finger past the waistband of Misha's pants and to his delight he finds they aren’t attached. What is the purpose of the additional skin? He tugs at the band, trying to pull them off.

 

Misha jumps a little and grabs Johann's hand. Johann might look like Erik and he might love him, but he isn't necessarily ready to start undressing for him.

 

Of course this isn't sexual. Johann is just curious. He's just a curious little robot who wants to know more about humans. He won't judge Misha or even know what genitals are for. It can't be that wrong to let him see everything.

 

So Misha let's go of Johann's hand and mutters "Tickled. Sorry," before once again turning his head away and trying to focus his mind on something else.

 

Misha's naïve assumptions, however, aren’t entirely correct. Joahann has been absorbing everything he reads from medical journals and romance novels, and has soaked up more than his fair share about genitals. He opens Misha's insubstantial lower plating and pulls them down, frustrated to find another layer beneath. How many useless layers does one human need? None of these are strong enough to offer protection.

 

He doesn’t notice how Misha isn’t looking at him when he pulls the final layer aside, and he recoils in shock. He’d certainly read enough about the strange nozzle described at length. What he _didn’t_ realize is that these objects are not fictional. He’d assumed they were created for the purpose of storytelling. He stores this new information and reaches forward to touch.

 

Misha jumps when Johann's cold metal hand makes contact with his cock. He doesn't know why he's so surprised that the bot would touch him. He'd explored his torso pretty thoroughly and he's seen enough of Misha's legs already not to be too surprised by them. But for some reason he hadn't anticipated that he'd want to touch and examine this intimate part of his friend but it's too late to stop him now.

 

Johann calls upon the wealth of knowledge he’s read about this object. It’s filled with nerve endings, which is why it brings pleasure and joy to the man it’s attached to. It engorges with blood to become firm for easy penetration, and releases some kind of “seeds” and then deflates. Perhaps it’s like a plant, and it gives off spores. That part has never been described in detail, the authors always prefer to describe the pumping or thrusting action more.

 

If this thing exists, that must mean all of the information he’s stored under “fiction” needs to be moved to “non-fiction.” This single flimsy stick is what humans rely on to repopulate? That can’t possibly be good, it looks so easy to remove or lose. He lifts Misha's shaft to inspect his testicles with similar curiosity.

 

Misha groans and starts counting backwards from one hundred in his head. This sort of manhandling is very clinical and professional but it only serves to remind him of Erik and how he used to look on Misha's body as only a doctor could. With Johann looking so similar to the doctor and inspecting him with such intent it's hard not to become aroused.

 

Or maybe it's just that it's been such a long time. Such a very, very long time, since anyone has touched him there.

 

A young man’s voice issues from Johann’s speaker, “ _Why don’t ya take a load off, fella?_ ”

 

Misha sits obediently on the edge of a table grateful that he doesn’t have to hold up his weight on trembling knees anymore. Johann’s hands are on him again, lifting his penis and estimating how heavy it is by dropping it and observing, but the more he touches it the more stiff it seems in his hands. And he realizes that he’s arousing Misha. Pride surges through his circuits. _He’s_ arousing Misha. He’s not even a human, he has nothing to provide sexually. Then again…

 

He zips away on his wheel, leaving Misha breathing a little harder and confused. Is Johann done with him? He hears rummaging in the next room, and then Johann is back. He has a giant red latex glove that Misha recognizes instantly; it was probably left behind by one of the Medics, and a bottle of surgical lubricant. Misha's face goes very red as Johann pulls the red glove onto his right hand to smooth out the surface of his fingers and palm.

 

"Do not... do not have to do that." Misha says, trying to turn away from Johann. This was a bad idea. He never should have taken off his pants. Now he's here, naked and aroused, about to be jerked off by his robotic friend wearing what could possibly be his ex-lover's glove.

 

Later he might laugh at this. It's like a cruel joke being played on him by the universe. Why else would this have happened unless someone in heaven wants to punish him for something? He's jerked out of his thoughts by Johann pressing on his leg, turning him back to sit flat on the table to he can easily reach the heavy's erection.

 

Johann applies the lubricant liberally to his glove and rubs his hands together to make sure the surface is well-slicked. The smoothness of the latex should mimic human skin, he wagers as he closes his hand around Misha's prick. Apparently his assumption was correct, because Misha gives a gasp and his hips jerk up, which Johann processes as a good sign.

 

He’s careful not to close his hand too firmly, but not too loose either, locking his fingers in place so that when he moves his hand, Misha's skin buckles ever so slightly beneath the pressure. He inspects closely as he moves his hand, the way the skin moves, the way his prick turns a darker red steadily, the way the veins pulse with the Heavy’s rapid pulse. This part of the anatomy is strange and fascinating in its uselessness.

 

But Misha clearly likes it. Blood has coalesced in his face, which Johann knows means he’s exerted, and from what he’s gathered in the books, it takes a good deal of work to experience pleasure. So he’s probably doing it right.

 

Misha bites back gasps and moans and fights to keep his hips steady. He isn't going to make this any worse than it is by giving into his lust and desperation. He should stop Johann, he knows he should, but he can't bring himself to force his hand away.

 

And as much as the tries to deny it, it feels good. Johann has kept the pressure just right and while his actions are very mechanical (go figure) and lacking in variety, it's definitely getting the job done. Already Misha is close to coming, sheer lack of recent sexual activity making things go much faster than they normally would.

 

Johann watches Misha's whole body. His muscles are tensing and fluttering beautifully. It’s like his whole body is dancing, his muscles move fluidly under his skin. Johan wants to touch them- so he does. He runs his free hand down Misha's chest and belly, up his side and down his arm. He coaxes Misha to lie flat on his back on the table, and increases the speed of his hand. Misha is gasping, his eyes are closed, his head tipped back. He looks like he’s in pain, but Johann knows that if he was, he would ask him to stop.

 

He flips through the channels to find the words he’s looking for, and locates a woman’s voice calling innocently, “ _Are you coming?_ ”

 

Misha groans and his hips jerk, fucking the slippery latex hole made by Johann's gloved fingers. This shouldn't be so hot. He shouldn't be aroused. But he is, and he's done fighting it because it feels good and he deserves to feel good for a little while.

 

So he thrusts his hips a few more times, his belly clenching as he gasps his answer and finally comes hard over the red latex. He gives a cry, his back arching; he grips the edge of the table and his toes spread apart as he thrusts into Johann’s hand through his climax.

 

Johann is absorbing information at lightspeed. He’d read it described in the books, but he’s never _seen_ it before. The way his entire body tenses up and then relaxes is, for lack of a better word, _beautiful_. He smoothes his hand down Misha's heaving belly and pulls the glove off inside-out, draping Misha's leaking cock over his thigh.

 

He certainly looks spent. Limp and cloudy-eyed, panting and trembling. Johann’s circuits flicker again with the same pride as before, but doubly so.

 

Misha lays on the table, chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath. He feels good. Relaxed and satisfied in the way only an orgasm can provide. He hasn't done this with anyone but himself for a while and he forgot how nice it is to have someone else involved, even in something as simple as a handjob.

 

As he comes down from his post-orgasmic bliss guilt settles heavy on his mind. Johann, an innocent bot with no idea what he was doing, just got him off. He took advantage of the only friend he has on this base anymore and let him bring him pleasure. Embarrassed and guilty Misha climbs off the table and starts pulling on his clothes.

 

Johann observes him dressing and realizes his friend intends to leave. He takes the shirt from Misha's hands and holds it behind his back. Misha looks sad and upset now. Maybe he made a miscalculation.

 

A man’s voice curls from Johann’s speaker, “ _Leaving so soon, my dear?_ ”

 

"Da. Give me shirt," Misha says, refusing to look Johann in the eye. He can't possibly, after what just happened. He just wants to go take a shower and go to bed.

 

Johann is startled by Misha's curt tone. He plays a melancholy violin loop from his speaker as he pedals back a few feet, but this only seems to make Misha angry.

 

“I do not need shirt to leave,” Misha says, staring hard down at his boots.

 

Johann is incapable of feeling physical pain. He knows this. But sadness weighs so heavily on him that it comes closest to _feeling_ he’s ever been. He stops the tragic music and holds out the shirt, flinching back a few inches when Misha yanks it out of his hand and jerks it down over his head.

 

He doesn’t say goodbye as he walks out of the lab, leaving Johann behind frantically recalculating to figure out what he did wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Misha feels awful. Really. He didn't mean to upset Johann or take advantage of him. He'd never want to do anything to hurt his friend. But after what happened he feels so guilty he can barely stand to be in the same room as the bot. He keeps worrying that Johann will realize what they did and be furious that Misha hadn't stopped it. It's not as if he has a sex drive after all. If he knew what he was doing he wouldn't have kept going.

 

But Misha had abused Johann's curious nature and let his lust get the better of him. So he starts to avoid the lab, coming by for an hour at most every day to check in on the bot before making an excuse and hurrying off. It's obvious that Johann is upset but Misha can't find the words to properly apologize. So he runs away.

 

Johann’s body starts to suffer in Misha’ absence. He’s not built very well overall, so he has to be tuned up almost daily. He does his best to repair himself, but he can’t always reach the spots that need fixing, and more than once he’s installed something backwards accidentally because he tried to do it in a mirror.

 

But more than just his body, his mind starts to suffer. The longer he spends apart from Misha, the less motivated he feels to read or write or really do anything. His mainframe gathers dust and rust begins to accumulate in his joints.

 

He spends the majority of his time lying flat on his back. It takes the pressure off his joints and keeps him from falling apart any quicker, but it also just seems like the right thing to do, given his mood.

 

As his mind goes longer without stimulation, it begins to slowly revert to its original settings. He’s never felt fear before, but given what he’s read about it, he’s certain that the programming creeping into his free will is causing him fear. He’s afraid to return to his original state. He can remember it, objectively, his memory is flawless. He remembers the soldier who shot him with a rocket and originally broke him before Misha found him. He remembers being dependent on his programming, but he can’t force himself to remember what it was _like_. It frightens him, the thought of losing his thought and freedom.

 

Maybe Misha doesn’t want him anymore because he isn’t human. He casts his eyes over to the paints Misha originally painted him with for Christmas, and finally musters the energy to sit up and roll over to them.

 

The fighting is particularly hard that day and Misha gets off the field later than usual. He considers just going to his room and skipping his visit with Johann. There isn't much of a point in going anymore since he and the bot barely talk these days. He doesn't even examine him anymore, fearing that it might inspire Johann to do the same to him.

 

But he can't just leave him to worry. If he doesn't come to visit Johann might think something awful has happened and he'll panic, he might even leave the lab. He has to at least go check in. So he goes to the lab and opens the door with a tired greeting. Johann answers back and rolls into view, making Misha stop dead in his tracks.

 

The bot has been painted. Not prettily like he had been for Christmas. It's messy, like a child's attempt at face paint. He's added to his robotic features, painting on bright red, far too big lips and a snow white blob of a nose. And in the center of his glass eyes are big black spots that he's sure are meant to look like pupils. As a whole he looks ridiculous and it's fairly adorable, sending Misha into a fit of laughter.

 

"Oh Johann, silly bot," he chortles, going over to the lab table. "Come here. Will clean paint off face. Why did you do this?"

 

Johann doesn’t come closer. He rolls backwards, putting distance between him and Misha. He struggles to find the words to describe what he’s feeling, before finally settling on an old recording.

 

“ _Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish, and someday, you will be a real boy._ ”

 

Misha's face falls and he sighs. He hadn't realized how much he was hurting Johann by running away all this time.

 

"Do not want real boy. Want my silly robot friend," Misha says, holding out a hand for Johann. "Am sorry I have been so distant. Will not run away again. Come here and will make you all better. You are starting to squeak when you move."

 

Johann wants to come closer. He wants to take Misha's inviting hand. It’s hard even to see it past the black spots he painted on his eyes. But he’s afraid. He’s afraid Misha doesn’t want him anymore.

 

His speaker crackles a little bit, the wires have started to come loose over the last several days. “ _Just go on… save yourself!_ ”

 

"Am not going anywhere. I will stay here until bed time. Like I should," Misha assures his friend. "Am sorry friend. Did not mean to leave you alone. Please come here."

 

Johann rolls over slowly, his wheel squeaking like an old shopping cart. He almost bumps into Misha with his obscured vision before Misha guides him to sit on a table and scrubs the paint off his face. Johann knows he can’t feel Misha's hands on him, but he pretends he can when Misha begins his repairs. He imagines what it would feel like, the weight and pressure and warmth of Misha's touch on his body. He offlines his eyes and imagines if he was human.

 

He gives himself a nose and eyes and lips and hair, and imagines Misha kissing his lips. Kissing his neck, holding his- waist, he needs a waist. He gives himself a trim waist to match the one he has now. Long axel- no, legs. Two of them. Long legs, with real feet. Strong arms and hands. Hands that Misha could hold comfortably, without any pinching. A tongue for speaking his own words when he wants to speak them. A tongue for kissing.

 

His mind is a haze as Misha repairs his body. Vibrating in his mainframe, he _feels_. He feels like he’s shaking apart, like his mind is scattering and trembling. Fuzzy and warm and spread out, and then tight. He doesn’t have the words to describe it or even the brain power to look for them in the first place. He doesn’t realize Misha is speaking to him, doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been unlit. He drifts in the hazy pleasure in his mind, envisioning Misha touching the body he’s created for himself in this place in his head.

 

"Johann?" Misha asks, growing worried. He's been talking to the bot for a while now but he hasn't been responding. The light in his eyes has gone out and Misha is starting to worry that he waited too long with the repairs and he's shut down entirely. The only thing keeping him from a complete panic is the fact that he's still sitting up.

 

"Johann. Come back now," Misha orders loudly, hoping he'll be heard this time.

 

Misha's voice pierces the fog in the bot’s mind and he reluctantly slips back into his body, his eyes flickering back on. He turns his head to look at Misha.

 

A girl’s voice crackles in his speaker, and Misha recognizes it as Dorothy’s “ _I was having the most wonderful dream! You were there -_ ”

 

"Can dream later. Have all night to dream. Need you to test arm now to make sure is working again," Misha says, chuckling. It's a funny choice of words, dreaming. Robots don't dream after all. They just process information.

 

Well, technically Misha is right. But he really wants to slip back into that fantasy. Later tonight he’ll have several hours to lose himself and see just how deep he can slip into that pleasure.

 

He forces himself to stay present for the rest of Misha's inspection, moving his parts as the Heavy instructs. He’s thinking deeply, however, his mind whirling. He has an important question to ask, but flipping through the stations he can’t find the words for it. He has no choice but to awkwardly splice together sentences in three different voices to get it out.

 

“ _If I were – ”_

 

“ _Human – ”_

 

“ _Would you love me?_ ”

 

Misha freezes. Guilt and sadness wash over him and he can feel tears in his eyes. Johann must be feeling exactly what he was feeling when Erik left him. The pain, the loss, wondering if he had done something wrong or if he could be better somehow to earn his love.

 

Griefstricken Misha pulls Johann into a tight hug.

 

"I _do_ love you. Love you very much. Am so sorry for making you think I do not," he says. "Was upset over what happened. Did not want to take advantage of friendship. Please forgive Misha."

 

Johann’s mind flickers back into that pleasurable space when Misha holds him, and he wraps his arms around the man. He offlines his eyes again, and pretends to feel it. How broad and warm and solid Misha is. How soft his skin must be. How he might smell.

 

He feels like he’s crying. He has no idea what crying might feel like, he’s only seen Misha do it a couple times. It doesn’t look painful… but at the same time, it looks excruciating.

 

Johann pets Misha's back and rubs the back of his neck and head. He can’t feel Misha, but he knows Misha can feel him, and that’s good enough a reason for him to continue. Especially if it’ll keep Misha holding onto him.

 

Usually, Johann tries to find words. It’s not always easy to find spoken words from radio shows or books read out loud, but it makes him feel a little more human when he can speak rather play music like an overgrown stereo. But when it comes to things like love, he’s found most expression comes through songs.

 

Misha seems startled when Johann starts to play music, but he realizes after a moment that he’s not playing it just for the sake of it.

 

“ _Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?_  
Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying.  
Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?  
  
I want you to want me.  
I need you to need me.  
I'd love you to love me.  
I'm begging you to beg me.”

 

Misha has a hard time understanding songs, the words go too fast to always be understandable, but the meaning of this song is all too clear. Johann wants to be loved. He wants Misha to love him.

 

Misha turns his head and kisses Johann's metal cheek. Then his forehead. Then his other cheek and finally where his lips would be.

 

"Misha loves Johann. Am sorry for leaving you alone," he whispers.

 

Johann has never been so frustrated that his face can’t emote, because he feels like his entire mainframe is exploding in showers of fireworks. Misha kissed him first, for once. He means it, he really means it.

 

Misha can hear Johann’s dangling wheel whirring excitedly, and he laughs. This won’t be that hard. After all, being a robot’s lover isn’t any stranger than being a deranged mad scientist-doctor’s lover. Especially since the robot is so much kinder than Erik ever was.

 

And, as it turns out, it’s not nearly as difficult or complicated as he thought it would be. Johann greets him over the days as usual, pressing their faces together in the closest approximation of a kiss they can share. He’s a little closer to Misha when they talk now, holding his hand or rubbing his arms and back.

 

His back rubs are _divine_. He doesn’t always use his hands, he’s found a way to detach them and fix padded paint rollers in their place. Misha always welcomes the gentle sliding pressure of them against his back, as well as the calculated massages Johann gives by hand. He touches Misha every spare moment he can. Some illogical part of his mind is convinced that if he touches Misha enough… _eventually_ he’ll be able to feel it.

 

It's actually really nice, Misha decides. Johann's love is as unconditional as any he's experienced and he never pushes Misha for more than he's ready to give. He never calls him names or teases him for his accent and he tells him he loves him as often as he can find the words.

 

It's probably the best relationship Misha can remember being in. The only problem is how easily things could go wrong if someone caught them. It's not the first time he's had to hide a relationship but it's different in the sense that if they're found out Johann will be killed by his teammates.

 

Which is more than a little nerve-wracking and certainly keeps Misha up at night wondering if there's a better way they can do this.

 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, but now that they’re in an official “relationship” Johann has a harder time letting Misha go at night. He even follows him out of the lab sometimes, which really worries Misha. If he’s spotted by anyone on their team…

 

It isn’t a matter of RED or BLU anymore. It wouldn’t matter if Johann was painted red. He’s a whole other species from the team, recognizable and distinct and he would be shot in a heartbeat. The thought of losing him has Misha crying, some nights.

 

Johann is always what he’s needed. His whole life, he’s been stuck in a pattern of picking the wrong sorts of people. His warm heart opened to people who were hurting, and even when they took their hurt out on Misha and abused him openly, he took it. He thought because he was so large, he could take anything.

  
It took losing Erik to prove himself he was wrong.

People aren’t projects. They’re complicated and funny and sometimes broken, and it’s not his job to pick out the most broken and cut himself on all their jagged edges while he tries to put them back together enough so they can love him, too.

 

Johann is what he’s needed all his life. He’s gentle and kind and sweet and intelligent. He sees Misha's pain and his scars and his old battle wounds – physical and emotional – and he loves them as part of the whole. Johann views him in parts, components that make up Misha.

 

Miles walked, tears shed, smiles shared. The amount of time he spends laughing, eating, bleeding. Misha is made up of a million million statistics that Johann can never fully categorize. Just when he thinks he’s figured him out, he learns something new and he has to reorder all his information. Misha keeps him thinking. Misha keeps him _human._

Feeling more paranoid the more he comes to love the bot, Misha decides to put a few extra locks on the door. One on the inside and one on the outside that only he'll have the key to. He doesn't want someone wandering in accidentally and while it might look a little suspicious without a key they'll never get in.

 

He tries to explain it to Johann but he doesn't seem to fully grasp the concept. He understands that Misha wants him to stay in the room but he doesn't really get why. He might not even remember the war, Misha realizes. He might not realize that every day Misha goes off to kill hundreds of his kind before coming back to hold his hand and kiss his unfeeling face.

 

He knows. He knows well. Even if he’d forgotten, he could hear it. The fighting was never so far out of range that he couldn’t hear it. He can hear the explosions, the Administrator’s voice ringing out loud and clear,

 

_Another Spybot has entered the arena-_

_An Engineerbot has spawned! Stop him before he lays down his teleporter!_

_Look out, Engineers, there’s another sentry buster-_

He doesn’t care about the fate of his mechanic brethren. None of them are as superior minded as he is. They’re built to fight and then die. But he does worry about Misha. Every day he worries he won’t come back. And then every day when he does, he’s filled with relief so powerful he could cry.

 

Until the day he doesn’t.

 

Johann paces the room anxiously. He checks the door hour after hour, but it’s still locked. It’s getting dark outside. The fighting ended a long time ago. He’s still not there. Very distantly, he can hear voices, but none of them are Misha's. Panic starts to escalate in Johann’s mind.

 

He doesn’t arrive at all that night. He’s either completely abandoned Johann, or he forgot all about him, or… he doesn’t want to think about the alternative. He’d prefer to be forgotten and left to rust while Misha found a human to love and went on his way to be happy and have small humans in that strange way humans do. He’s not there by the next morning, either, and Johann decides he has to find out what happened to him.

 

Breaking the door down is honestly no great feat. The single lock is no match for him as he rams the door wide open. He stares down the long hall in the early morning, and realizes he has absolutely no idea what lays beyond this hallway. He’s been in this hall before, but beyond that, the world ends for him. He doesn’t know what’s past it.

 

He begins to roll.

 

It's a soldier who sees him first. A young man fresh out of the army who got picked up by the mercs. He's a good fighter and doesn't know how to do much else so he took the job eagerly. Some of his military habits have stayed with him though and he gets up before dawn most days to work out before the fighting starts.

 

He was on his way past the med bays towards the mess hall when he sees the bot. A medic bot, he can tell that instantly, which somehow got into their base. The bots have never gotten through into here before and while it isn't armed more are probably on the way.

 

The soldier isn't armed either or he'd have destroyed Johann on the spot. Instead he runs off to raise the alarm.

 

Meanwhile in the med bay Misha tries again to get out of bed and sneak off. But the Medic who's been there all night pushes him down and threatens to call another Heavy to guard the doors if he doesn't start to behave. He's not going out in the field for at least a day while they make sure his concussion isn't too serious, she says, as if that's what's bothering the Russian.

 

He couldn't care less about the fighting or even his concussion, the result of an idiot new scout with no control over his bat, he just wants to get out. He has to go see Johann, sure the bot is probably panicking by now.

 

His suspicions are only confirmed when he hears a commotion outside.

 

“A bot!”

“A Medicbot is in the base!”

“How’d it get in?!”

“Where’d it go!”

“Somebody find it, destroy it!”

 

Misha has never felt such an overwhelming fear since his family was taken to the gulag and separated.

 

He pushes the Medic out of the way and runs out of the med bay, tearing the wires off the machines that were monitoring him in the process. People are rushing past him, heading down the hall to his left.

 

Misha takes off in pursuit, forcing his little legs to run as fast as they can. He has to get to Johann before they kill him. Hopefully the bot has thought to hide or at least try to distract them for a minute or two by talking. Maybe he can buy some time until Misha gets there.

 

“I got it, I got it!” a scout’s voice rings out. Misha sees a ring of mercenaries in the distance, his stomach drops.

 

“Do not hurt him!” Misha bellows, but he’s drowned out by the voices of the mercs. He shoves through the circle, his head throbbing, to find Johann pinned flat on his front with a Scout’s cleat on his back. He’s spinning his wheel uselessly, trying to get away.

 

“Some little _Medicbot_ thought it could sneak in ahead of hours and blow us all to hell!” The Scout postures as Misha is shoved back through the small crowd. “We gotta send that Grey Mann chump a message loud an’ clear about cheatin’! I think a head rigged to explode on his doorstep oughta do the trick!”

 

"NO!" Misha bellows. He hunkers down and barrels through the crowd, using his broad shoulders to push past like a football player. He gets to the front and grabs the scout, almost flinging him out of the way so he can stand in front of Johann, protecting him from the enraged crowd.

 

"Stop! Is not dangerous! Is not like other bots!" Misha says, blocking Johann with his body. "Is not here to hurt us. Please, he is good bot. See how scared he is."

 

“Oho!” the Scout guffaws. “We got ourselves a traitor here, fellas! Got news for ya, lard-ass, robots don’t feel fear.”

 

Johann struggles to stand, only to receive a hard swing to his side from the Scout’s bat, and he topples to the floor in a heap. The other mercs roar with laughter, closing in their ranks to keep Misha from escaping.

 

Misha grabs the scout by his shirt and lifts him off his feet with one hand. He brings the scout close to his face and growls, "Hit him again, and I shove bat down tiny little throat."

 

He tosses the terrified scout back into the crowd and lifts Johann onto his wheel but stays in front of him as a protective barrier. He can feel Johann grab onto the back of his shirt for safety and hopes he can get them both out of here alive.

 

"One more step and I fight you all!" he warns, shouting at the assembled mob. "He is not like other bots! Have spent time with him. He is good bot. Give him chance to explain or I will beat you all like tiny babies you are."

 

At first the mercs seem to hesitate. But then mob mentality kicks in, and they decide they can take him. Hands grab Misha's shirt and drag him forward. Large as he is, it’s like a bear being swarmed by ants. He’s outnumbered. He feels Johann’s hand leave him, he hears a cry of “ _Nooooo!_ ” from his speaker.   
  
He receives a bat to the head, the second in two days and falls like a rock, his heart aching more than his skull ever could. He sees Johann fall a few feet away and struggles to stay awake, but his eyes close of their own accord.

 

Waking with a foot to the ribs is one of the less pleasant ways to wake. He’s been abandoned on the floor, the group only a few feet away. He’s obviously only been out for a minute tops, but ehe sound of metallic clanging already fills the air. Johann doesn’t stand a chance. Misha wobbles to a stand and tries to force his way through, but it’s too late.

 

Johann is lying on the ground, arms outstretched, his head and shoulders thoroughly bashed around by a metal baseball bat. The light in his eyes is out.

 

There are tears in Misha's eyes as he finally manages to make his way through the last few members, still beating the bot with whatever they have on hand. He falls to his knees in front of them, taking a few blows to his back and shoulders but barely noticing.

 

He gathers Johann's dented shell and pulls him close against his chest in a tight hug. They've destroyed him. Whatever there was inside him they've killed because they wouldn't listen. The heavy starts to cry, rocking Johann in his arms, without a care that his teammates can all see him.

 

The mob hushes. They’re startled by this display of emotion towards the enemy. A few of them look guilty, most just confused. They whisper amongst themselves, some even backing away to remove themselves from the scene.

 

“It’s just a freakin’ robot,” the Scout scoffs, gesturing towards the limp, soundless hunk of metal. “Get over yourself. What, you found yourself a stupid pet or something?”

 

Misha's tears stop. He gently puts Johann down and stands up, turning to glare down at the outspoken Scout.

 

Fuming, he grabs the boy's bat away and drops it to the floor before grabbing him and slamming him against the wall.

 

"You will shut mouth," he snarls, eyes blazing with fury. "You will not speak another word about Johann. Was robot but was better person than any merc. Especially cowardly baby scout. Johann was smart. And funny. Was good friend and I love him. You will apologize to Johann now."

 

Behind him, he hears someone whisper, “It’s getting up.”

 

He whirls around to see the light back on in Johann’s eyes. Joy fills him, he forgets the Scout, dropping the frightened young man on the floor, who immediately backs behind a couple soldiers for protection.

 

“Johann!” Misha cries, taking the robot by the shoulders. He’s damaged and he’s shaking and spluttering again, but all the dents can be hammered out, his paint can be replaced. He can be fixed. He hugs the bot close, and waits for the answering arms around him, but receives none. “Johann?”

 

There’s no spark in his eyes. They’re lit, but dull. He doesn’t look at Misha. He doesn’t seem to be looking at anything. He’s just standing stock still, motionless.

 

"Johann? Is Misha." Misha says softly, cupping the bot's face. He waits for some sign of recognition but none comes. He doesn't do anything, just stands there. "Please. Is Misha, your friend. You remember? Brought you to lab and fixed you. Gave you voice."

 

“Great, now he’s friggin’ delusional,” he hears the Scout mutter.

 

Johann makes no move to indicate he recognizes Misha. He sparks a little, gutters some smoke. Shakes and vibrates with the engine keeping him moving. But he doesn’t turn to look Misha in the eye.

 

The mercs didn’t kill him. The mercs did something worse. They _reverted_ Johann.

 

Back to his original programming. No thought, no feeling, no emotion, no memory. No love.

 

"You broke him," Misha says weakly, stepping away from Johann. "You made him into regular bot again. He was better. Was alive before. Had thoughts. Talked to me. He could read and write. Liked classical music. Now is just regular robot. You killed Johann."

 

“Yeah, more like you’re crazy,” the scout jibes from behind his wall of protective soldiers. “The bots can’t do any of that shit, they’re just robots! We kill a million of them a day and ain’t none of ‘em like friggin’ _classical music_.”

 

"This one did!" Misha roars. He turns attack the scout again but is stopped by the soldiers. "This bot liked music! Music and dancing and holding hands! Gave best massages in whole world and fell in love! He was special bot!"

 

He looks back at Johann, and his heart breaks when he sees nothing but a robot staring back at him. No trace of love or personality in his lit-up eyes. He’s just a shell filled with wires and programming. He’s not good for anything anymore.

 

Kind of like Misha. He feels like nothing but a shell now. He was tired, in pain, all he had left in the world was Johann. He was the reason Misha got up in the morning, and the reason he fought. He was the reason Misha faced danger. He was the thing Misha wanted to protect.

 

Maybe it would be most merciful to just destroy him. There’s no way his team is going to let him leave and try to repair Johann. They’re going to discharge him if they don’t just kill him. They’ll destroy Johann’s body, and Misha will be the only one alive who remembers his mind. Johann deserves to be destroyed by somebody who loved him.

 

"Is no point in keeping him now," Misha says to the crowd. "Someone go get gun. Will destroy him myself. Is better than letting animals like you kill him."

 

When no one moves he shouts for his gun again and one of the Heavy's in the crowd rushes off to retrieve Sascha. In the meantime Misha stares Johann down, hoping that maybe something will flicker back to life inside him.

 

He never got to say goodbye. Not really. He can say goodbye now but it's not the same. It will never be the same because the Johann he knew and loved is gone. Beaten out of his robotic body by crazed mercenaries who can't tell friend from foe unless they're sorted out by color. It's disgusting.

 

Still he has to say something.

 

"Am sorry Радость моя. Did not want it to end up like this." he says, taking Johann's hand. The robot doesn't grip back and it's all Misha can do not to cry again.

 

His gun is in sight. He usually feels so connected to her, but now she just feels heavy and cold in his hands. He takes a deep breath, waits a few seconds, hoping Johann will say something at the last second. Like at the end of a dramatic movie, he’ll speak up just as Misha's finger twitches on the trigger, and they’ll have their dramatic reunion.

 

He receives nothing. Not a single word. His heart aches as he pulls the trigger and sprays Johann with several bullets. The robot doesn’t jump out of the way or try to escape. He collapses under the spray, crumples against the wall. The light in his eyes flicker out.

 

Misha drops Sascha. The gun he once loved so much feels cold and wrong in his hands now. He doesn't even care when she hits the floor with a loud clang. He'd be happy never picking her up again after what he had to use her for.

 

He turns away from Johann's remains and the crowd parts for him to let him go. There's no reason for them to stay anymore now that the bot is gone and no reason to keep him here. The Administrator will decide his fate, they all know that.

 

So Misha heads back to his room, trying not to think about what just happened. About how another love of his life is gone and once again he's alone. How he still wasn't good enough to keep the person he wanted to be with safe and happy forever.

 

Maybe he was right from the beginning and he never should have let himself fall in love again. He isn't meant for it, clearly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of shortish, I'm sorry

Nobody sends for Misha. They’re all too frightened and confused. Either the Heavy is insane, or they’re wrong, both of which are worrying things to think about. He packs up his belongings, lost in thought. Maybe he’ll track down Erik in Germany, he thinks. Track him down and beat him into a miserable bloody pulp. Then he’ll return home to his family and protect them like he always does.

 

He can’t stop himself from heading back down the hallway he left Johann in, suitcase in hand. The robot is still slumped against the wall, one hand in his lap, the other limp and palm-up beside him. His head is hung on one shoulder, his axel bent like a pair of knees. He looks exactly like a human would on his death bed.

 

“I love you,” he tells the robot quietly, and leans down to kiss his forehead.

 

As he carries his suitcase, every step feels heavier. He considers taking Johann’s body with him to repair, but it’s no use without his mind. Misha loved his mind, not his body.

 

Behind him, he hears a crackling sound. He stops in his footsteps and whirls. Johann is seated exactly as he was before, riddled with holes and limp. His eyes are still out. But he hears the crackle again- it’s coming from Johann’s speaker. Maybe it’s dangerous to have hope that he’s still alive, the chances that his wires are just sparking and causing a little feedback is much higher. But even so, Misha feels hope.

 

"Johann?" Misha asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. Even if he's still alive he might not be Johann anymore. He wasn't when Misha shot him. He probably won't be now. Assuming this is more than the radio picking up a stray frequency.

 

He takes a step closer and calls again. "Johann? Is Misha."

 

Nothing. The little hope Misha allowed to seep in around the edges starts to crumble. He stands up, but then hears the static again and drops back down to his knee. “Johann!” he takes the bot’s shoulders and shakes them gently. It’s stupid, the bot can’t feel him. But he does it anyway.

 

The crackle is back, louder, and then Misha hears a voice. A quiet, strained and static-filled voice.

 

“If… Y- You…. Go…. Will… Get… Sh- Shot.” He recognizes his own voice stammering out of the speaker. Johann must have been recording everything.

 

"Johann..." Misha chokes on his tears. He hangs his head. Johann was still in there. He was still there and Misha shot him and left him to die. "Am so sorry. Did not mean to hurt you. Thought you were gone. Thought you had left me. Will never hurt you again. Stay with me, please. Will take you away and fix you. We will leave army and be safe together."

 

Misha lifts the bot into his arms, careful not to leave any important pieces behind. He abandons his suitcase in the hall and makes his way to the lab. He sees the door, rent open by force. Johann fought the door to see Misha. Johann loves Misha.

 

He lays him out on the table and immediately sets to work. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t had breakfast or lunch. He has to work fast, he could lose Johann if he takes any breaks for himself. He puts his head on straight and reattaches one of his hanging arms, replaces the glass covering his eyes.

 

A child’s voice crackles quietly, brokenly from the speaker.

 

“ _I don’t w-wa-want to go, mis-mis-mister._ ”

 

"You are not going. Do not think that. Misha is here now." Misha assures him as he works. He starts pulling out the bullets that are stuck in Johann's plating. "Misha is going to fix you. Make you like new. Will be happy together again. Johann is not going anywhere."

 

Johann is quiet for a while, but Misha finds peace when he reconnects the proper wire and his eyes flicker back on. He doesn’t know how long Johann would have survived in that hallway before his last brain wave flickered out, but he thanks the lord that he felt compelled to walk down that hall again.

 

He repairs him as best he can, but there are some parts of his workings that are too complicated even for him. He starts to feel a hopelessness well up in him when he hears a voice clear from behind him.

 

Whirling, he sees an Engineer standing in the doorway, clutching his hardhat politely in front of him. “I heard what happened this mornin’,” he says, a slow Texan drawl taking Misha by surprise. “I don’t think we’ve met. Name’s Dell.”

 

He steps forward and Misha prepares for a handshake. His eyes widen when the man pulls off a glove and reveals a fully robotic hand, and presents it to shake.

 

Misha takes his hand and shakes it firmly. It's cold like Johann's but it feels different. The fingers are a different design and the hand is too big. But somehow it's still comforting.

 

"Misha. Heavy weapons guy. Is nice to meet you," he says. "You are here to tell me if I keep fixing Johann I will be fired? Because I do not care. Will save him if I can. Do not need job."

 

“No, I reckon I’m here to help,” Dell smiles and adjusts the hat back on his head. “What those fellas did just plumb ain’t right. I’m gonna try to set it straight, if I can help it.”

 

Misha's determined grimace breaks into a relieved smile. "Da. Need help. There are parts I do not understand. Thought he was gone and shot him but Johann is still in there. Need to fix him. Please."

 

Dell doesn’t waste words. He immediately pulls up a stool and gets to work, explaining himself as he goes.

 

“Ya know, you ain’t the only one,” he says. “I’ve been workin’ on these fellas since the start of this war. Difference bein’ I guess they decided it’s my ‘job’ so I’m ‘allowed’ to. But after I heard what the fellas were sayin’ about your little bot here, I’m inclined to believe ‘em. I been findin’ out these guys are a lot smarter than we think they are. I managed to pull the mainframe outta an Engiebot unharmed, and put it in one of my sentries… and now I got a sentry that moves on its own, rolls around on wheels on its own and even tries to talk. It’s like havin’ a dog, and I didn’t train it one bit. I don’t think it’d be too much of a stretch to believe a bot’s got feelings.”

 

"He loves me," Misha says matter of factly. He takes Johann's hand and he thinks the bot's eyes might get a little brighter. "Told me himself. Loves me. And I love him. He is bot but is better than many people."

 

Dell lifts his eyebrows at Misha and gives a low whistle. “Loves you? Now that’s a hefty thing. A robot, bein’ in love? The scandal. You’ll have the papers in an uproar.”

 

His words are good humored as he patches up the last of the wires in Johann’s back before closing his plate. “That should do him,” the Engineer nods, sitting the robot up. “Feel anythin’ else outta whack, sugar?”

 

Johann nods and taps his speaker. Dell frowns and gently pulls it out, unclipping it from his mainframe. He tuts, the wires are looking quite frayed. “Yeah, looks like this took a number. Ain’t gonna last. I can try to make you a more official voicebox if you like. Your words ain’t gonna sound as human, but you can string syllables together into your own words.”

 

Johann sits back, drawing his shoulders up in the only way he knows how to express excitement. He taps his throat again, bouncing slightly.

 

"Da! Would like that very much!" Misha translates. He's still holding Johann's hand and he can almost _feel_ the bot's excitement. "Would be so nice to have him speak to me on his own for once. Want to hear what he has to say, not just what he finds on radio."

 

“I’ll get right to work on that. And I’ll talk to the rest of the guys about my findings on these robotic fellas so they’ll back off him. In the meantime… you might wanna give him a fresh coat of paint,” Dell claps Misha on the back, lifts his toolbox, and he’s gone.

 

Johann and Misha are alone again. Johann stares forlornly at his speaker, but reminds himself he’ll be getting a voice all his own soon. He points at his chalkboard and Misha rushes to get it so Johann can communicate with him. He scribbles a message and turns it around so Misha can read.

 

 _Paint me red_.

 

"In a minute," Misha says. He takes the chalkboard and sets it aside so he can wrap his arms around Johann and kiss him soundly on his face plate. He covers him in kisses, knowing Johann can't feel them but it doesn’t matter. He has to show him how sorry he is somehow.

 

Johann lets Misha give him kisses. _He_ knows that _Misha_ knows he can’t feel them, but the fact that he does it anyway brings him joy. He wraps his arms around Misha and pillows his head against his chest.

 

He reaches up to touch the side of Misha's head where a large red lump has formed, and immediately sets to work doctoring him. He pushes Misha seated and fetches ice and a towel and gives him a compress, and searches for other bruises and cuts, his hands moving a little too fast, and he tears Misha's shirt on accident.

 

Johann’s shoulders slump, mimicking a sigh, and he leans back. He reaches tiredly for the chalkboard and wipes away his message so he can write a new one.

 

 _I thought I lost you_.

 

"Thought I lost you too. I am sorry. Was brought in unconscious last night from blow to head. Wanted to come when I woke but doktor would not let me," Misha explains. He gives Johann one more kiss before going to fetch the red paint to start working. "Am so sorry. Did not want you to get hurt. Never wanted them to hurt you. Was so scared they had killed you."

 

Johann writes out a new message on the board, and Misha sees fright in his eyes.

 

_Can I die?_

Misha sighs and nods. "Da, I think so. At least, can be destroyed. Even if robot can not die, can revert to original programming. Can forget everything. Forget me and how to speak and what love is. Robot will live, Johann will die. But Misha will not let that happen!"

 

Johann contemplates this quietly as Misha starts to sand the remaining blue paint off his body. He knows Misha will die. Humans can die very easily, it seems. He takes the board one more time and writes a last message for the night, after which he falls into such a state of thought that he doesn’t speak for the rest of the night.

 

 _I’ll stay with you until you die_.

 

Misha smiles sadly. He doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't want to think about dying and leaving Johann. Johann can't die and will end up all alone without Misha. With no one to take care of him. Forever.

 

"Will be honored to have you with me," he says sadly. "Was thinking, you want to come to my room tonight and stay with me, would be happy to have you."

 

Johann nods his head and takes Misha's hand, trailing behind him through the halls. He might not be made for cuddling, exactly, but he sure would like to see what humans look like when they sleep.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	6. Epilogue

“Ya’ll ready?”

 

“We are ready!”

 

Johann blinks excitedly.

 

Dell leans in and with a last click, the box is set into place in his throat, a shiny new speaker covering the newly riveted hole. He’s so excited he can hardly contain himself. The last few days have been a stressful whirlwind of coping with the team who tried to bash both him and Misha to death.

 

Some of them were more willing to listen than others. Misha had made it abundantly clear to the Scout who initiated the attack what would happen to him if he started anything again.

 

Funnily enough, the red paint job really seemed to help. His body and gloves are a shiny new bright red, his hair is painted an inky black, and he even painted his own glasses gold. He feels _handsome_.

 

The finishing touch is the voice box that has just been clipped into his mainframe. He’s so nervous he can’t think of a thing to say.

 

“Well go on, sonny. Try it out,” the Engineer coaxes.

 

Johann looks between the two of them. He can sense the programming in his mainframe, but he’s so afraid it won’t work that he’s almost too worried to try. He puffs his chest out and then slumps his shoulders to mimic a deep breath, and then feeds information through the voice box.

 

“Is- it- work- ing?”

 

Misha's face breaks out into a wide grin and he shouts with joy. Pulling Johann into a tight grip he answers, "Da! Is working! Is working perfectly! Say more. Say Misha, please."

 

“Mi- sha.” Johann’s syllables are artificial and lilting, but they’re _his_.

 

Misha has tears in his eyes but he blinks them away, not wanting confuse him into thinking that he's sad. So he keeps grinning. Johann with his own voice, being able to voice his own thoughts for the first time, is like a dream come true.

 

“Th- ank- you- En- gin- eer,” Johann says to Dell, who just gives him a nod and a smile as he packs up his tool box.

 

“That doohickey ever gets damaged ya just come to me, hear? I’ll be able to fix it up new,” he says as he leaves the old med bay to give the pair some privacy.

 

Johann wheels over a cracked mirror and inspects his new speaker, running a finger around the shiny silver rim. He looks brand new- better than brand new. He looks better than any of the other robots ever looked coming directly off the line.

 

He turns to face Misha. “Wh-at- hap- pens- now?”

 

"Now I say I love you. And you say it back for first time." Misha answers, taking Johann's hands. "Then we kiss and go to war."

 

Johann extends his axel – another new addition to his anatomy courtesy of the Engineer – so his face is level with Misha's, and leans forward to press his mouth plate against Misha's lips.

 

“I – lo- ve- you,” he says with the volume turned down so it’s as quiet and intimate and meaningful as he can make it. It’ll take a while for him to get used to how his own voice sounds, but Misha seems to love it already.

 

Misha kisses Johann's face plate and pretends that he can feel him pushing back, returning the kiss. They stay like that for a moment, pressed together, enjoying the stillness and closeness. For a moment they're in their own little world. It's beautiful and perfect and something Misha was sure he would never experience again after Erik.

 

Finally he pulls back and gives Johann a smile before letting go of his hands to hand him a medigun.

 

"Got this for you. Engineer made some changes to customize it. Will be better than any other." he explains. "From now on, you come with me. To protect me."

 

Johann puffs up with pride. He’s going to protect Misha, keep him safe, make sure he comes home every night so they can be together forever until all of Misha's parts wear out and he dies for real some day.

 

“To- war.” He says and takes the Heavy’s hand, leading him this time rather than following. He’s ready.

 

The morning is chilly, he can see condensation forming on his warm plates already, and clouds forming from Misha's mouth and dripping from his nose. The rest of the team come up beside them on either side as they walk out to the place the first wave of Mann Co. robots will come.

 

He flicks the switch on his gun and it whirs to life as the robots approach as a clanking horde in the distance. Misha nods at him and he nods in return, the ubercharge ready and building red static in his gun.

 

Johann is frightened and excited. He’ll be fighting his own kind.

 

Or, no, they’re not really anything like him, he decides. They don’t feel. They don’t cry or love or feel fear or pain or joy. They don’t die like he can. He might be made of metal, but he’ll never be a robot again.

 

When he opens fire with the rest of his team, he feels peace.


End file.
